<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Colours And Dreams by ArchiveResponcibly</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23428354">Colours And Dreams</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchiveResponcibly/pseuds/ArchiveResponcibly'>ArchiveResponcibly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Buffy The Vampire Slayer mentions, M/M, Major Original Character(s), abilities!au, runaway Virgil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:28:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,270</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23428354</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchiveResponcibly/pseuds/ArchiveResponcibly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Colours dancing across his mind like stars.<br/>Well, when you put it that way, his power sounded beautiful. But that couldn’t be it, right? What else? He racked his brain as he willed his feet to pull him further inside. The smallest flash returned as the soft click of the door echoed around the otherwise almost silent room.<br/>The boy.<br/>(updates wednesdays)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Virgil Brooks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I... may or may not be using my updates to remind myself what the flipping day of the week it... Do enjoy, though!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dull hues never ceased to crowd Virgil’s vision. Even as the sun showed high in the sky, beating down baby blues, pinks and reds blinked at the corners of his sight. And as the moon glowed just the tiniest splinter of itself, browns and cyans still appeared. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, some were brighter than others. It seemed that during school, pink and indigo were the most prominent. Though, when he left to walk around his neighborhood, which was on the other side of town, yellows and greens perpetrated the air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now, though, as his small form barged through the cool, night air, cyan glowed brightly, lighting up Virgil’s way. He cracked the smallest of smiles, cyan had become his favorite colour by this point. It always seemed to be there, just slightly brighter than all of the others. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took one hand out of his pocket, shaking the sleeve to cover his palm as he pulled open the door to the train station. The other still clutched tightly to the satchel hanging from his shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was running away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t the kind of sudden fearful escape his anxiety commonly had him do. No, he was done, honestly </span>
  <em>
    <span>done</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His classmates constantly boasted about the “cool abilities” they’d been born with. Anything from shapeshifting, to lie detectors. What did he have? It was a question he asked himself constantly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Colours dancing across his mind like stars</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, when you put it that way, his power sounded beautiful. But that couldn’t be it, right? What else? He racked his brain as he willed his feet to pull him further inside. The smallest flash returned as the soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>click </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the door echoed around the otherwise almost silent room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, Virgil wasn’t sure if he was one boy, or multiple. Though, now that he considered it, the latter was far more likely. Each time it came, it’d be an image, quick as the blink of an eye, of a boy. He always looked just like Virgil, except his hair and clothes were different.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a blonde that wore blue shirts and grey cardigans.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A dark brunette with red and gold scratched across his outfits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An ebony, who never ceased to wear a necktie that looked so close to choking him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were others, Virgil was sure of this, but those three were the ones he could remember most clearly. He tried to picture the next most common, Pink, as he crossed the room. He has tawny hair, like Virgil, or was it strawberry blonde? He couldn’t remember. Though, he could recall noting that he had a necktie, though it always came across very differently than Indigo’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, the room had been crossed. The worker behind the counter, a tired-looking young woman with her maroon hair tied into a messy bun curled just above the nape of her neck, looked up at him. “How may I help you?” she said robotically, as if it were merely a script she’d memorized.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil fidgeted with the strap of his bag. “I- I need a ticket to Accasta.” he answered quietly. His right foot tapped against the dirty, hardwood floor, a nervous habit he’d picked up for when he couldn’t tap his fingernails on the table, or wring his hands together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She must have heard him fine, because she bagan typing away at her holo-screen. “That will be 35.” she responded in the same, emotionless voice. Virgil quickly dug out a 40 coin, placing it on the counter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-yes, of course.” he replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the first time that evening, as the girl handed him his ticket and change, her voice began to resemble that of a real person’s. “Say, if you’re headed to Accasta, what is your ability.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil gulped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Accasta was a decently well-known island, mentioned in most year five or six culture lessons. For the most part, it was completely inhabited by those who had weak powers, or none at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had guessed right, of course; that was exactly why he was headed there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s called Colour Theory.” he muttered. He ignored the prompt in her eyes to elaborate, choosing to pretend that she had merely asked for it’s name. Finally, she sighed, and said,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There are seats over there.” and pointed to a small cluster of uncomfortable-looking benches. Virgil nodded, silently sitting down. He pulled his satchel onto his lap, feeling more secure like that. He stuffed the small paper into the black and grey pocket of his hoodie, refusing to remove his hand from around it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even so, a relieved sigh escaped his lips, blowing around him like air in the winter, or the smoke of a dragon. He let his mind wander, imagining the large, reddish reptile that Red almost always had behind him. It was blurry, translucent; as if, no matter how hard Virgil tried, he could never focus his gaze upon it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took him a moment to realise that he wasn’t just recalling the brunette, but he’d actually appeared there. Well, not really, but it was at least Virgil’s ability and not his memory producing the image.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was striking, sitting there on the floor, changing the other boy’s vision into rose-tinted glasses. His hair was tousled to the left, unlike Virgils, which always seemed to mess over to his right side. Almost without realising he was doing it, he carded his fingers through his own mop, forcing it to at least resemble a left part. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Red didn’t look up at him; none of them did. It was a fact that never ceased to make Virgil feel lonely. His mouth was moving, expression remicient of a silent taunt aimed at someone Virgil couldn’t see. Then Red stuck his tongue out at the unknown entity, which pulled a smile to the tawny-haired’s lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, a brilliant, cyan blue fogged across the room. It became a light lavender as the blonde boy walked in. Virgil sat ever-so-slightly forwards in his seat. He’d rarely seen multiple at once. Though, when he did, they always seemed to ignore one another.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But this time, Cyan tapped Red on the shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he pointed directly at Virgil.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Patton Hart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The purple disappeared, fading away; Red blurred out of focus as the colour dissipated. But, Cyan stayed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was just shorter than Virgil, the blonde of the group. He sported a blue t-shirt, darker than the colouring in his hair. His eyes, the same warm brown as Virgils, glistened in the fluorescent lights of the train station.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walked forward, the blur surrounding his form sharpening as he went. He took a seat next to Virgil, saying nothing at first. Finally, when a sharp intake of breath echoed from the taller, he spoke. “Purple?” he whispered, voice just louder than his heart in his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Virgil asked, voice raising in confusion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cyan shook his head out, more towards himself than the other. “I- I’m sorry.” he said, but didn’t elaborate. There was no question in Virgil’s mind, now more than ever. He’d always wondered why he never noticed a purple colour, this must have been why.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>was purple.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My name is Patton.” Cyan- no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Patton</span>
  </em>
  <span> explained. “I- I’ve just been calling you Purple… uh, what’s yours?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Virgil, Virgil Brooks.” he finally answered. “How- how did you find me?” he questioned, lowering his voice again. He’d always assumed that the boys he saw were unreal, imaginations conjured by his mind or ability. He hadn’t, however, guessed that he’d ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>meet </span>
  </em>
  <span>one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patton gave the smallest of laughs; it resembled a sigh of relief. “I’m not sure, really. I- I realised that the colours are strongest when I’m near that person… so I just followed the purple here; to you.” he gave Virgil a cheerful smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you found others?” Virgil asked, not letting himself hope for either answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patton’s grin widened. “Yeah! Roman and Remy.” at Virgil’s confused glance, he elaborated. “Oh, uh- Red and Brown.” Virgil nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two sat in silence for a few more moments, before a loud clunking sounded from a door in the back. The few others in the room, along with the two boys, looked over. The woman had stood, scanning the room with her tired gaze. “The train has arrived, please present your tickets to the footman. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, Patton and Virgil strode to the door, emerging into the cool, night air. The footman gave them each tired, but welcoming smiles. Patton returned one, but Virgil merely nodded his head in understanding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The inside of the train was nice, with small cabins lining the walls. The two chose one near the back, where they hoped they wouldn’t be interrupted. Virgil kept his satchel in his lap, just noticing that Patton just carried a small purse over his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was cheerful, with a cat face stitched unevenly into the denim side. Unpowered fairy lights curled around its face, criss-crossing in the back. Patton must have noticed Virgil staring, because he looked down at it himself. “Oh, yeah, Ro- Red made each of us these, your’s is sitting in a trunk at the moment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil gave him an odd look. “Wait, what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patton smiled, his voice slowly growing more confident. “Red’s real name is Roman, and he made these purses for each of us. Since we hadn’t found you yet, yours is sitting in a box.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Virgil muttered dumbly. “Where is he?” he added after another beat of silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The three of us have an apartment on the outskirts of Accasta central, it’s too big for us right now, but we manage.” he chirped. “And it’ll be worth it when we find the others.” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That; that makes sense, I guess.” Virgil replied. He turned his gaze out of the window, avoiding Patton’s eyes. He was nervous, no question; his shoulders curled in on themselves; turtling into his torso. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stayed that way, for a while longer at least, letting the tense silence hung between them slowly relax. Virgil watched his old city of Cherry slowly disappear into forested mountains. He knew it would be a long while, a few hours at least, before they made it to the bridge to Accasta. Then, however, it would be only about half an hour before they reached the Accastan station. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Virgil?” Patton finally asked after about an hour. The boy looked over quickly. His mind already racing through every possible thing Patton could need, though only focusing on the negatives. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Could you move to another cabin? I need you to stop breathing so loudly. Once we get off, could you not interact with me or the others ever again? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I made you something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait, what</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patton was, in fact, holding three chokers. They were well crafted, the colours spiralling around each other in complicated patterns. The first was purple and red, the second purple and brown, and the third purple and cyan. In Patton’s other hand, sat two bracelets and a necklace with the same colour schemes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil took them, star-struck. “What are these?” he asked tentatively, tying them each around his neck. They fit perfectly, with just enough extra string to barely brush against his collar bones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patton grinned at him again, tying the other purple and cyan one around his wrist. He already had two others; cyan and red, as well as cyan and brown. “Friendship bracelets.” he answered simply. “Roman makes the purses, I make jewelry. It’s so that we can always be tied to one another. And it’s so that we can always know how many of us we’ve found.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are they all different?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patton took a moment to process his question. “Oh!” he finally exclaimed. “Well, Remy and I both like the bracelets, Roman likes necklaces, and you just seemed like a choker kind of guy.” Remy, Virgil assumed, must be Brown. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That makes sense, I guess.” Virgil noted, turning back to look out of the window. The train was cutting through a mountain pass, trees sparse at the bottom, but blooming like a flower bed at the top. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not ten minutes passed before the train stopped at a small cabin in a quaint town built along hills. The sudden explosion of noise, coupled with the socialising and confusion, sent exhaustion pounding at Virgil’s mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“G’night.” he muttered to Patton, who looked confused for a moment, before curling over on the bench. He curled his arms around his satchel, using it like a pillow.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Roman Kingsley</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Virgil woke up to Patton shaking his shoulder. It was still dark out. Virgil’s internal clock </span>
  <em>
    <span>helpfully </span>
  </em>
  <span>supplied that it was sometime between eleven at night, when he’d gotten on the train; and sunrise. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thanks</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He thought sarcastically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pur- Virgil?” Patton asked, continuing to press against the taller boy’s side. He groaned, glaring drowsily upwards. “It’s four thirty, we made it to Accasta.” finally, he stood, the slightest bit of newfound energy pulling him upwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two exited the train, waving politely to the footman, who pretended not to be half-asleep on his feet. Patton continued with his explanations, while Virgil merely hummed in agreement or grunted in understanding. He was far more focused on the choker around his neck. His favorite was the red and purple one, so far at least; it had always been a colour pallette he liked. As well, it was a simple candy-stripe pattern, while the other two were far more complicated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When we get to the apartment, Remy and Roman will probably already be asleep.” Patton explained, to a short noise from Virgil. “You can pick from any of the free rooms you’d like!” he added cheerfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” Virgil finally said. He took off the purple-red choker, spinning it around between his fingers. In truth, he was excited to find the others for the sole reason of already taking a liking to Patton’s jewelry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if reading his thoughts, Patton added. “I’ll let Roman bring you your purse in the morning, would you like me to make more friendship bracelets for you?” the taller let out a nervous hum of agreement, placing his free hand on the back of his neck. “Okay!” Patton chirped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door to the apartment opened with the lowest of creaks; still, Virgil flinched. If Patton noticed the movement, he didn’t comment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The front room was comfortable, lived in, and eclectic. In just an instant, any possible doubts of the three different people living there dissipated from Virgil’s mind. The furniture was aesthetically pleasing, dark reddish-browns popping nicely against the warm, lighter brown of the floor. Though, they were covered up to the ceiling in paintings, dog pictures, and Starbucks cups. The kitchen in the back was practically drowned in flour, sugar, and coffee grounds; not to mention the colourful splatters Virgil assumed were food dye or paint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just in front of him was a living room, just as homey and random as the rest of the house. To the left, center was a hallway. Virgil could only make out one room, which was labelled </span>
  <em>
    <span>lavatories </span>
  </em>
  <span>in brilliant calligraphy. Behind the kitchen stood a door to what seemed to be a balcony.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just how extra were these other two?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wondered tiredly. He hadn’t even interacted with them yet, and they had already smashed his introvert meter. “The bedrooms are down the hallway.” Patton told him in a loudish whisper. “The nearest one is mine, next to the bathroom is Remy’s, and the end of the hall is Roman’s.” he explained. Virgil nodded, picking up his satchel and moving forwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, the doors Patton had pointed out each had the owner’s name lettered across them in various fonts, but each matched their colours. Virgil sighed fondly, refusing to accept that he was excited to do the same to his door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, he chose the room to the right of Roman’s. It was to the outside, and would therefore mean he didn’t always need to turn on the electric lights. Not to mention, it was the farthest away from the door (beside Roman’s, of course). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The inside was vaguely small, notably so compared to Virgil’s bedroom in Cherry, but that made him feel strangely safe. A bed sat in the center, up against the window, with just one nightstand to his right; a dresser was pushed up against the opposite wall. But it was otherwise empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The contents of the satchel clambered onto the hotel-like sheets. It wasn’t much, just Virgil’s earbuds, phone, a few outfits, his favorite book, and his art supplies. It took him just a few moments to stash his electronics in the nightstand drawer, and his clothes and art in the dresser. He removed his jewelry, leaving them haphazardly next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, as his phone clock told him five in the morning had hit, he fell back against the bed, falling asleep almost instantaneously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>II</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reawoke to voices from the common room, and footsteps coming down the hallway. A timid rap fell across his door. Virgil dragged his hand across his eyes, trying to rub away the sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patton?” he asked, the volume (though pretty close to his usual) echoed painfully in his groggy eardrums. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He must have guessed right, as the cheerful boy replied. “Yup! I’m gonna make breakfast soon, and I have something to give you.” he explained. Virgil moaned tiredly, getting up. Before walking across the room, he tied the chokers back around his neck and slipped on his hoodie, which he must have thrown to the floor at some point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing on the other side of the door, was, of course, Patton. Though, what Virgil wasn’t expecting, he was carrying a purple version of his bag; not only that, but it was overflowing with various friendship bracelets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Virgil tried to avoid crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took it tentatively, fighting the urge to hug it to his chest. “Thank you, Pat.” he breathed, not even realising that he’d subconsciously given the shorter a nickname. He excused himself, closing the door so that he could put the bag down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He placed it in the dressor, but not before picking a bracelet off the top of the pile inside. He returned to Patton, still trying not to cry from how suddenly at home he felt. “The others are already in the front room.” Patton explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two walked down the hallway. Virgil still couldn’t see the others, so they must have been in the living room section of the apartment. Patton came out forwards, facing towards the front door. Virgil could hear him speaking, but couldn't concentrate on </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was saying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Virgil stepped out of the hallway behind Patton, before he could even tell what was happening, he was tackle-hugged by two taller figures.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Remy Somnus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Guys! Guys! You’re scaring him!” Patton insisted, pulling Roman and Remy off Virgil. He gave the latter an apologetic sort of look. The two boys certainly seemed sheepish, following the blonde’s order.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, babes.” Remy added lightly, bringing the straw of his coffee up to his mouth. “Just excited to meet my fellow non-sleeper, is all.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil, along with Patton and Roman gave him odd looks. “Wait, how would you know if I sleep?” the former asked. Remy gave them all deadpanned looks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait… you three never figured it out?” he asked incredulously. “The colours dim when we’re asleep, honey, the purple was the only one that stayed clearer when the others went out.” Virgil mentally facepalmed for never realising such a thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” he let out dumbly. Though, he was certainly happy with the warm welcome, though unaccustomed to it. “I… should have known.” he added, scratching the back of his neck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He thinks you’re stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Something in his head muttered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yellow flashed ever-so-slightly brighter. Indigo dimmed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman chuckled. He turned to Virgil, changing the topic. “Patton gave you your bag, right?” Virgil nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s in my room,” he added as an afterthought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A silence fell over the room. “Hey, you all must be starving, I’ll get breakfast ready.” Patton noted, walking towards the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>III</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman and Patton were talking on the balcony, their chatter falling deafly against the door, never making it to the two boys inside. Virgil had lost count of how many coffees Remy had since he met him, and he was drinking another one. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That explains all the starbucks cups</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He thought to himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Does he not have a coffee maker? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re staring</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Another part of his thoughts supplied; Virgil looked away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, honey, tell me about yourself.” Remy insisted half-heartedly, not looking at the other. “Where’d Patton find you, again?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil sucked in a breath. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’ll send you back</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Said one thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’ll be more suspicious if you don’t answer</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “The train here. I- I ran away.” he admitted quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remy gave him an odd sort of look. “Why do you say it like that?” he finally asked. After a moment, he gave a chuckle. “Oh, darling, we’re all runaways, didn’t you know? Well, except for Roman.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O- oh.” the other muttered dumbly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remy smirked fondly at him. “Babes, we’re a band of barely-adults with non-physical abilities, you didn’t realise?” Virgil shook his head, but curled into himself further. After a moment, Remy took in his own sharp intake. “How old are you, Virgil?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seventeen.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remy’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh…” he breathed. The two looked away nervously, not saying anything else. “When are you turning eighteen?” Remy asked tentatively. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Three months.” Virgil deadpanned, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. “The Nineteenth.” Remy nodded, looking away again. “You- you’re not gonna send me back, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, babes,” Remy finally looked back over at Virgil. “You know, clingy really isn’t a good look on you.” he said with a smirk. At Virgil’s horrified look, he laughed. “Of course not, you’re Pattoncake’s kiddo now, whether you like it or not.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil laughed again. No sarcastic thought jumped into his mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remy joined him. “Honestly, darling! He’s like the human personification of that line, ‘I love you means you’re never getting rid of me’ except it’s more like ‘I’ve laid eyes on you means you’re my child now’.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two fell back into comfortable silence, Remy going back to the book he was reading, Virgil lost in thought. He felt at home around these people, finally at home. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>IV</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil was sitting cross legged on his bed, staring at a painting in front of him. It was pretty simple, cool blues and purples mixing together in a pond, silvers and greys making up the fountain itself. The trees were forest greens and moonlit hunters. A few, simple, black crows perpetrated the navy sky. No stars shown.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard a knock at the open door, looking up to see Roman leaning against the frame. He pulled his left hand through his deep, brown locs. Virgil looked back down, a blush slowly creeping up his neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He envied the colour, always having wished for darker hair himself. He had nothing against tawny hair in general; he just wanted dark hair, alright? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman straightened back out, walking forwards towards the painting. Of course, the entire place was protected by a flattened, cardboard box Patton had given Virgil, that had already become covered in splashes of the paints surrounding it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without even looking up at Virgil, Roman grabbed a paint brush and began dabbing at the edge of the painting closest to him. “Hey!” Virgil squeaked, trying to push him away. “What are you doing!?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give me a second.” Roman replied unhelpfully, tilting his head as if trying to picture the painting facing him. Finally, he placed the paint brush back in the water, and stood up. “Your sky was too bland, you needed a few more birds.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure enough, three more crows flew in the sky now, and it did look better. Virgil looked up, unimpressed, at Roman. “You could have just </span>
  <em>
    <span>said </span>
  </em>
  <span>that, sir Do-The-Most.” he snapped; Roman shrugged, moving a blue paint cup and sitting down on the cardboard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never got a chance to talk to you earlier.” he noted wistfully, ignoring Virgil’s remark. “Patton told me your name’s Virgil, right?” the mentioned nodded curtly, still annoyed that the brunette had messed with his painting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a moment of silence, Virgil rolled his eyes and spoke. “Patton told me that you make the bags, how many kinds of art do you do?” he asked. Roman chuckled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, babe, everything under the sun.” he smirked, matching Virgil’s. “Painting, sewing, acting, makeup, books, the whole shebang.” he boasted. “I can even sing!” Virgil rolled his eyes again exaggeratedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sing me something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>So give me something to sing about~” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Roman replied, his hand moving towards his chest, as if grasping an invisible microphone. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please~ give me something-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, just like in the show, Virgil cut him off. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Life’s not a song, life isn’t bliss, life is just this, it’s living</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” he’d admit, he wasn’t as good as Roman, but he could sing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You watch Buffy too!” Roman exclaimed happily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No shit, sherlock.” Virgil teased sarcastically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I have a theory~</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That it’s dinnertime!” came Patton’s reply from the kitchen. Virgil burst out laughing, his amusement heightened by Roman’s offended look. Though, he too joined the other after a moment.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Remus Kingsley</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'll be completely real; I fucking love this chapter. as well, it was the last one I wrote pre-release, so I'm getting low on backups. going back to my writing day-of usual.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The four boys sat around the living room after dinner. Patton was trying to stitch a sword into a friendship bracelet. He was doing a pretty good job of it, too, but kept getting tripped up by the handle. Remy was scrolling through his phone; Roman was drawing in a sketchbook, and Virgil was trying to listen to his online drawing class with Accasta’s bad cell service.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a moment, Remy seemed to notice his frustration, then chuckled to himself. “Oh, babes, hand it over; I’ll set you up on the wifi.” He insisted, holding out his hand. Virgil paused the video, took out his earbuds, and compiled. He felt guilty, living off them like this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is- is there a way to get a job around here?” Virgil finally asked. Maybe he’d feel better if he was at least adding something to the group. Patton and Roman looked up at him, confusion scratched across their faces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooh!” Patton exclaimed. “I mean, yeah, of course, but there’s really no need.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Huh? “Why?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman’s face finally lit up with understanding. “Oh, Robert Downer jr, I guess we never mentioned. I’m pretty well off, I pay for the apartment and bills-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without skipping a beat, or even looking up, Remy called. “He’s a trust fund baby who doesn’t know what to do with being a social outcast!” Roman made a sound that Virgil had already come to hear enough that he started calling it </span>
  <em>
    <span>offended princy noises</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That- sounds fair, but you could have said it a bit nicer, Remy.” Patton insisted, turning back to tie off the bracelet. He handed it over to Roman, who stopped being annoyed instantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remy, per usual, ignored the father figure, and turned back to Virgil. “I work at a nearby coffee shop to keep busy, you wanna come down with me for my shift tomorrow morning and see if we can get you hired?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yes. Thank you.” Virgil replied, taking his phone as soon as Remy held it back out. He’d come to trust these three over the hours he’d known them, but he still felt nervous about other people holding his things. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>V</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil sat, alone, on the balcony that night. It was around three in the morning, even Remy was sound asleep. Still, Virgil was awake. The night breeze blew across his skin, sending shivers along his spine. With a low sigh, he picked himself up and walked into the living room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A bright, lime green exploded across his vision as he did so. In front of him, staring up towards the ceiling, stood Green. Now, since Virgil's met Remy, Green was the one he recognised least. Yet, there he stood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first thing that struck Virgil about him, was how much he resembled Roman. Though every single one of them appeared similar, Green was even more like Roman than Virgil could have dreamed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even so, Virgil gasped loudly, stumbling backwards. A wave of panic from the sudden appearance of another person flooded through his mind. He thought he was alone! That was a safety that had suddenly been ripped away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Virgil?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boy turned, looking a groggy, tired Roman straight in the face. He turned to Green quickly afterwards, a sad look filling his eyes. “R-roman!” Virgil exclaimed, lowering his voice quickly. His panic was replaced by guilt, he must have woken Roman up with his gasp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman turned back to him. “Ah, uh… why are you still up, Virge?” he asked solemnly, already pretending as if Green weren’t there. Virgil didn’t answer, just looked between the two. With a sigh, the darker brunette muttered, “I might as well explain.” and sat down at the kitchen island.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time he did continue, Green had disappeared. “He’s my brother.” Roman said simply, looking down at the counter. “He ran away when we were fifteen, never to be seen again.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was not what Virgil had been expecting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m… I’m sorry.” He replied. Roman chuckled darkly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be.” he insisted, looking back up at Virgil with an obviously-fake smile. “I’ll find him one day, I’m sure of it… It’s just…” he trailed off. “When I was little, I was so sure I hated him, y’know?” he asked. “But when he suddenly just </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t there</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I missed him. I missed him because sometimes he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was there</span>
  </em>
  <span> for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil didn’t know what to say; so he sat in silence and stewed in his own confusion and panic. “What was… he like?” he finally asked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit! </span>
  </em>
  <span>He exclaimed internally. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What if that makes Roman more sad-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Chaotic.” Roman replied. His smile grew far smaller, but genuine. “He’d wake you up at five in the morning just to ask if a unicorn’s dick looked anything like it’s horn.” they both laughed at that. Roman’s was far more like a giggle, and it made Virgil’s chest flutter. “We were like opposite sides of a coin, yin and yang, etc; but when it really mattered, we cared about each other.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil thought for a moment more. “Patton told me he found me by following the purple glow.” he noted. Roman gave him an odd look, urging him to continue. “So we do the same for your brother-” he stopped, realising he didn’t know the other’s name.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remus.” Roman explained. “His name’s Remus.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil didn’t continue; he just stared Roman down. “Your parents named you </span>
  <em>
    <span>Roman </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Remus</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” he asked incredulously. Roman took a moment to realise what he was asking, then snorted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Yes they did.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil gave him another look, before bursting into quiet laughter. Roman joined him, sending more flutters around Virgil’s chest. He purposefully ignored them. “So… did they want you to build a city, kill each other, or both?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um… yes?” Roman replied, tone more questioning than anything else. “No?” he clarified, with even more uncertainty. Virgil laughed again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, but in which order?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman took a moment, before snorting and giving him a deadpanned look. “They wanted us to both kill each other, and then have our ghosts build a city upon one another’s corpses. Obviously.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both spent the rest of the night laughing, until Remy and Patton walked in and asked what was so funny. Neither said anything.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Shino Ko</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You’re really not gonna tell me what was so funny?” Remy asked, taking a long sip of his coffee. He leaned against the doorway of Virgil’s bedroom, watching the other root through his bag of bracelets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope.” Virgil said absentmindedly, choosing a long necklace and winding it four or five times around his wrist; before he shoved the purse into his drawer and walked over to Remy. “So where's this coffee shop?” he asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remy sighed, long and low, giving up on getting the information for the tawny haired. He just decided to ask Roman later. “It’s about a five minute walk from the apartment. Always understaffed, by the way, and they love me.” Virgil nodded with uncertainty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They waved goodbye to Patton and Roman, who were baking in the kitchen. Remy even coaxed Virgil into stealing a bit of cookie dough. Patton didn’t notice, and Roman chuckled silently at them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Downtown Central Accasta bustled through rush hour. Cars, personal and taxi alike, choked the streets; pedestrians squished in besides one another. Remy moved swiftly, easily dodging between people. He’d grabbed Virgil’s wrist once they’d left the building, and hadn’t let go since, dragging the boy along.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shops lined the streets, bakeries to smoke shops and everything in between. Remy stopped at the familiar coffee shop, pressed between a French restaurant and a 50s style ice cream parlour. He saw the flyer Emma had made a few days ago fluttering on the door as he pushed it open. “Welcome.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>VI</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil looked around the room, taking in the homey sort of feel it held. The walls were a warm, dark brown, a similar hue to Roman’s hair. The tables, chairs, and counter were all a golden tan. The posters hanging from the wall burst with the colour the rest of the room was missing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look what the cat dragged in; hey Remy, hey newbie.” a woman greeted. She had deep, maroon hair in twin braids curled over her shoulders. Even braided, her hair reached down to her waist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remy stepped forward, a comfortable, slightly sly grin settled on his lips. “Shin, good to see you, babe. This is my roommate, Virgil Brooks.” he opened his palms, pushing Virgil into the spotlight like an auctioneer showing off an old vase. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sup.” Virgil gave her his two fingered salute, hiding his nerves with aloofness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remy’s boss gave a low chuckle. She clicked her tongue. “That Patton, always picking up strays. Anyways, the name’s Shino Ko.” she pivoted on her heels, walking over behind the employee counter. “Nicknames are a death sentence.” she glared down Remy, who didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. “Anyways, what can I do for you, Virgil?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil paled. “Actually, I was looking for a job.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shino tilted her head to the side slightly, before shrugging. “Hired, want coffee? You still have to pay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, what? No interview, or… huh?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remy and Shino looked at each other and laughed. “Patton’s strays are my strays, kid. Anyways, I trust Remy’s judgement.” she wrinkled her nose. “Still not exactly sure why, though.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remy glared at her. “He’s not a stray.” he deadpanned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shino gave him an odd sort of look, before she paled. “Is he…?” she trailed off. Virgil looked confusedly between the two. Remy nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Purple.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” Shino breathed. “A’ight, previous statement canceled; your coffee’s free, want a cupcake?” Virgil’s mouth fell open ever so slightly. “Scone, then? No! Muffin; you want a muffin.” it wasn’t a question, but Virgil nodded anyways.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This Shino was… a lot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was handed a blueberry muffin, and a simple medium roast coffee. Remy pulled him to a table near the counter. “You wanna just take my schedule, babes?” he asked. “At least for now.” Virgil nodded, unsure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Somnus! You’re on in five!” an ebony girl with green hair called to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rodgers that~” he called back slyly. She glared at him, sticking out her tongue. “Oh, hun, I’m Patton’s stray, whaddya want from me?” he turned to stage whisper to Virgil. “That’s Evaline Rodgers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.” Virgil replied, rolling his eyes fondly. He turned his gaze back to the counter, watching Shino and Evaline dance around each other effortlessly. “Hey, what’s with Shino and Patton? They seem… close?” he questioned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remy stared him down for a moment, before softening. “That's not my story to tell.” he answered honestly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then there it was, a pink glow. Virgil and Remy locked eyes, wordlessly telling the other they saw it too. It brightened, glistening just as the cyan had when Virgil first met Patton. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Somnus, Brooks! You’re on.” Evaline called. She left from the back room, untying her apron from around her waist. Remy nodded at Virgil, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we’ll talk about it later, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he said, telepathically. Virgil didn’t return the thought, just walked back to Shino. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Shino asked. Virgil stopped in his tracks, pausing for a moment, before he shook his head. “Just take an apron and follow what Remy’s doing.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>VII</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two’s shift ended just after lunch. “You know, you should eat something </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>for lunch, Virge.” Remy muttered; Virgil just shrugged and took another bite out of his third blueberry muffin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like blueberry muffins, fuck your </span>
  <em>
    <span>sandwiches </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>salads </span>
  </em>
  <span>and shit.” he wrinkled his nose exaggeratedly. Remy fought back the laugh bubbling up his throat, choosing to glare at his roommate instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we… y’know? Or should we find Pat and Ro?” Remy finally asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil didn’t say anything, just walked down a smaller street, mostly so that no one would overhear. “We should find them.” he finally replied. “But how? Pat said he followed the purple to find me, but…” he trailed off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remy gave a soft chortle. “Oh, babes, you’ve never tried to find us, have you?” he asked, Virgil shook his head. “You just have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to find a colour.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Virgil replied dumbly. Remy laughed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” he said. “follow my lead.” he instructed, closing his eyes. Virgil followed hesitantly. “And, uh… wish? That’s what Pattycake’s been doing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he did, closing his eyes and willing the world to turn a warm shade of pink.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you like Shino go check her out in my (and her) original work, The Breakables Academy! No one really reads original works on here, so I'm using my fanfics as adds (don't @ me, okay).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Emile Picani</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have returned! Hello, hello, thanks for having me; have some Picani.<br/>Trigger warnings; a bit a parental panic, and a panic attack (I don't think it's graphic, but it's there). Tell me if I missed anything.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>North Accasta was nicer than where Remy and Virgil were staying. The skyline was shorter; clean streets with white brick buildings stretching four storeys into the clear blue sky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil, Remy noticed, was looking around with awe etched into his eyes. He had to remind himself that the purple boy was from Cherry, a very power centered city. A light smile crossed his features as he realised just what Virgil was seeing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on.” he insisted, looking towards a thicker cloud of pink. Virgil nodded, noticing it as well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The colour brought them down a thinner street. It was homey, flowerpots in the windows; and was that someone singing? Remy closed his eyes for a moment; though whether looking for a clearer sign of pink, or to better hear the music, he wasn’t sure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any idea who Pink could be?” Virgil asked out of nowhere, voice not managing to pop the calm bubble embracing the two. Remy shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’ll probably look kinda like us, I guess; I mean, we all look a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little </span>
  </em>
  <span>similar.” he suggested.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil scoffed jokingly. “Similar?” he asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remy opened his eyes and glared at the other. “Did I fucking stutter!?” he exclaimed, sounding far more offended than he intended. Virgil burst out laughing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, he stopped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remy startled, gaze matching his flatmate’s. A boy stood, silhouetted in an overwhelming cloud of pink. It almost reminded him of the first time he’d met Roman, and again when Pat landed on their doorstep. “That him?” Virgil whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?” Remy breathed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two stepped forwards tentatively, disappearing into the pink mist. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>VIII</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Remy’s shift ended hours again!” Patton exclaimed, pacing the length of the living and kitchen areas. Roman nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patton’s movements didn’t stop, nor did his voice lose it’s panicked edge. “And they still haven’t come </span>
  <em>
    <span>back</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman finally stood, giving up and forcing a relaxed posture against the sofa. He clutched Patton in an embrace, stopping him where he stood by the front door. “Stop.” he commanded sternly. Patton forced his mouth closed without responding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are they?” he whimpered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” Roman responded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” Roman pulled away slightly, looking Patton in the eyes. “Breathe.” he instructed. Patton pulled in a shaky breath. He let it out with far less effort. “Virgil and Remy will be fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patton choked on his next deep breath. “How-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve met Remy.” Roman cut him off. “Are you honestly telling me this isn’t a very him thing to do? C’mon, Pat.” Patton just nodded, curling farther into the other's chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Than-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A crash sounded from the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>IX</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Emile Picani sprawled out on his couch. Some episode of Stephen Universe (he’d only been paying half-attention for the last hour or so) played on the television. He was partially paying attention to the drawings swimming in his vision. His roommate and best friend, an old client named Apollo, sat up on a nearby armchair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, There was a knock at the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you get it?” Emile asked, his voice coming out more of a whine then he had hoped. Apollo rolled his eyes, but placed his book face down on the coffee table and rose to his feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The conversation was muffled, but Emile could make out the good majority of it. It began with the front door creaking open and Apollo asking, “Hello? How can I help you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next voice was unfamiliar; something Emile hadn’t expected. He assumed it would be his upstairs neighbor asking him to turn down the TV, or the lesbian couple next door who never seemed to have enough sugar. Instead, the voice sounded masculine, and younger. Probably around his or Apollo’s age? “Oh, uh; hi.” it replied anxiously</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it was someone in Apollo’s class asking for a study date? That could be it, Emile reasoned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again, that wasn’t it either. A second voice spoke, similar to the first, just more confident. It was quieter this time. “That isn’t him, Vee, we must have the wrong building.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” Apollo asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first spoke up again; Vee, was it? “I’m sorry for bothering you.” he just said. “We’re looking for someone else,” he explained. Emile noticed his voice catching, barely audibly, but still catching. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then the door closed, and Apollo was walking back down the hallway, shaking his head. “Just some college kids.” he explained, assuming Emile hadn’t heard anything. The blond ignored the small pang of guilt of eavesdropping. Emile nodded, returning to trying to muddle through these </span>
  <em>
    <span>flipping pictures</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>X</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“God </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn </span>
  </em>
  <span>it!” Virgil exclaimed. He threw his arms up in the air, voice dripping with venom. “No one here looks anything like </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking pink</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sign me up.” Remy muttered, forcing a snigger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil just stared at him for a moment; then cuffed him over the head. “Shut it, Rem.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remy smirked. “Darn.” he replied. Virgil rolled his eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This horny fuckhead</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He thought to himself. “Seriously, though, maybe he just didn’t come to the door?” he asked. “What about that first place? That guy looked about college age, maybe he has a roommate?” he asked. “Or a boyfriend or something?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil nodded, then he stopped. He was returning… he’d already been there! What… What if the boy got annoyed? What if he lived alone and he resented Virgil for bothering him? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God </span>
  <em>
    <span>damnit</span>
  </em>
  <span>!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Virgil? Virgil! What the fuck is this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another voice appeared. “Virgil, is it? Can you hear me?” Virgil nodded shakily. “Can you breathe for me? In for four,” he prompted. He didn’t say anything until Virgil took the breath, just placed a hand on the ground in front of him. Virgil didn’t take it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell is this?” he absently heard Remy say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shush.” the unfamiliar voice insisted. “Virgil, hold for another four, okay?” he did so. “Now breathe out for four.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Th- thanks.” Virgil muttered, opening his eyes. The boy in front of him had sandy blonde hair and sky blue eyes, he looked quite like Patton. “Pink-?” he choked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pink shushed him gently. “Tell me five things you can see; and the name’s Emile, Emile Picani.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Logan Morrow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*Logan enters from stage right, doneTM*<br/>uhh, warnings for a bit of a yelling match at the beginning? not detailed or anything.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Logan didn’t like plenty of things. He didn’t like it when the hot water cut out while he showered; he didn’t like it when he slammed his foot into a door; but more than anything, Logan hated not understanding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hated that the tips of his black hair were closer to blue, because he didn’t understand it. He hated that his mother told him, “sometimes, people just can’t be understood” when he was bullied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Actually, no, scratch that. More than anything, he hated his power.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hated that pink and purple swam in his vision while he whittled away at schoolwork. He hated that colourful faces perpetrated his thoughts when he really didn’t want to feel anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hated when yellow clouded his vision while he told himself he didn’t need to feel sad; hated when he freaked out and purple came back. The colour he hated the most was cyan, also there whenever he felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>; a constant reminder of the emotion he </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t want to feel</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hated the screaming coming from downstairs. Apparently, Logan hated a lot of things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Wait, say that last one again?</b>
  <span> He hated a lot of things. </span>
  <b>No, the other last thing!</b>
  <span> You only have one last thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan sat up in bed, rubbing away the headache the battling narrators were having. The small room was dark, courtesy of the blackout curtains. Damn, migraines; that was another thing Logan hated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>C’mon, dude, do I have to keep a list now? Stop hating things</b>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, ignoring the weird mixes of purples and blues, and focussed on the voices downstairs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s just a power! This is why you jumped ship?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>came a female voice, that was Mom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes!” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m not taking this. We’re leaving.” came Mom again, footsteps echoing off the walls. Logan placed his head back on the pillows. He heard the door open, heard Mom’s angry footsteps enter his room and open up the closet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan continued pretending to be asleep; logically, he should have been roused by the raucous, but Mom was too angry to notice. He heard more shuffling, and the sound of a zipper being undone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>My suitcase?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, after a while of drawers opening and closing, Mom shook Logan’s shoulder. “Darin, wake up.” she whispered. Logan opened his eyes, estimating the time it would take him to come to if he were really asleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mom looked tired, far more tired than usual. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Darin</span>
  </em>
  <span>, we… we have to leave. Grab your backpack; you can have fi- ten minutes to pack anything sentimental.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan ignored the confused frustration building in his chest. What was wrong with this house? It was a decent size for the family inside, and it had every necessity? “Mama, what is wrong?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mom sighed. “I… can’t explain, not right now. I’m sorry, Hachimitsu, I just can’t.” Logan bit back an annoyed sound threatening to crawl up his throat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Annoyed doesn’t help</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He scolded himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, Mama.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two slid out the front door in just five minutes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>XI</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mom didn’t speak as the train chugged away from Bala Station, nor did she explain to her son what was going on. Logan racked his brain for whatever on Earth could be happening. He lived his whole ten years of life in that place, why was it suddenly bad? Who was Mom yelling at? So, so many questions, and he hated having to ask every single one of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hachimitsu… I know you’re confused, but,” Mom took a deep breath. “We’re headed to the island of Accasta, it’s… it’s for people like you, people like </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Darin.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>people like us? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Logan nodded, but he wanted to glare. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Explanations should answer questions, not make more! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Another thing that he just didn’t understand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the train ride passed in silence. Logan tried to fall asleep, he really did, but the look on Mama’s face kept him wide awake. “Please, Hachimitsu, sleep.” Finally, with the last piece of prompting, Logan fell mercifully asleep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Darin! It’s the big day, are you excited?” Mom shook her son’s shoulder to wake him up. Logan looked up, unsure of what to do with himself. It took him a moment to realise what his mother was talking about. Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He hid his groan behind a yawn. “You can’t fool me, Hachimitsu, I know you don’t want to do this.” she grinned brightly. “But we found them! Isn’t that amazing, sweetheart?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan sighed. “Alright, Mama, that is… an adequate reason.” she smiled, white teeth staring down her unsure son. Mom patted his arm, standing up and leaving the apartment bedroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll make some eggs, how does that sound? We’ll head over at ten.” and she left the room. More importantly, she left Logan to his thinking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan did a lot of thinking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>XII</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Daesko Myi sat at the front desk of his work. He was bored, pretty much only being pulled away from his kind scrolling through tumblr by Remy and the new tenant, Vincent, was it? He wasn’t sure, but he was certain that Patton would remind him at some point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Speaking of Remy and maybe-Vincent, they left hours ago? Where the hell were they? Weren’t they just going to Shin’s coffee shop? He was broken from his seemingly endless questions by a chime of the bell in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked up to see a lanky woman. She had ebony black hair and pale skin. Behind her stood a similar looking boy with blue kissed hair; her son, maybe? “Um, I’m looking for someone?” the woman asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Congrats.” Daesko replied, turning back to his phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boy cleared his throat loudly. “Will you aid us in locating Roman Kingsley and his flatmates?” he asked plainly. Daesko paused, looking up at the boy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s possible… </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought to himself. The blue in his hair certainly pointed to it, but none of the others had anything like that?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s your power?” the landlord finally asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman looked like she was going to argue, but the boy looked relieved. “My power is most commonly known as Colour Theory it-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daesko held out a hand. “That’s all I need, bud, come on.” he stood. Under his breath, he muttered. “Pat’s gonna love this.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I swear, we'll get back to the others soon. I regret ever splitting the party.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Pinks and Blues</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>new chapter title. Is this forshadowing, or did Res realise that this story does not have enough characters for their master plan. (the second one)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Emile listened with baited breath as the two explained. They hadn’t moved from the sidewalk, just sitting around on the concrete. His brown eyes widened, gaze flicking between the two.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So…” he began once they had finished. “You’re saying that… you’re trying to come together?” the two nodded. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil and Remy stopped in their tracks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why? </span>
  </em>
  <span>They never asked themselves that before. “Companionship?” Remy asked. “Maybe it’s something to do with the ability.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil shrugged. “Why are we on Accasta?” he countered. “Strength in numbers; to see others like us.” Emile grinned, nodding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly my thinking.” he stood, waiting for the others to follow. “Okay, I’ll come with. Just let me say goodbye to Apollo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Apollo?” Remy asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s probably the guy who opened the door the first time we came around.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>XIII</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The desk manager led Logan and his mom up and around to one of the larger rooms. The strode down the hallway. Logan forced himself to place one foot in front of the other. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay </span>
  </em>
  <span>it will be </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then it was there, too soon for comfort. Why was Logan so nervous? It’s a door, to an apartment, with people inside. That's not… scary. Logically, the likelihood of the situation to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt </span>
  </em>
  <span>him was slim to none. It was… gonna be-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Slam! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan crashed into the door with a loud thud. He squeezed his eyes shut insistently, a hand coming up to hold his bruised forehead. Why do people do that? It’s not like he can </span>
  <em>
    <span>protect </span>
  </em>
  <span>his forehead or… he was rambling. God, his head was throbbing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hachimitsu!” Mom cried, rushing forwards towards him. “Are you okay?” she asked worriedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan nodded. “Yes, I am perfectly alright.” he replied, straightening his stance and slowly pulling his hand away from his face to hang by his side. Mom looked like she wanted to argue, but closed her mouth with a quiet click of her jaw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quickly, the door opened in, causing Logan to stumble slightly. A short boy, maybe around 5 foot 3 with sandy blonde hair stood in the doorway. His eyebrows turn upwards, nervous and worried and confused. “R- Ro, get an ice pack, please.” he insisted, trying to keep his voice from shaking. He looked up, gaze moving along the three in the hallway. “Come… come in.” he said, </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>XIV</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil and Remy sat uncomfortably on the sofa while Emile slipped into the kitchen to talk to his roommate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apollo was leaning against the counter, drinking from a cup of warm tea. “So… what was that about?” he asked suspiciously. Emile sighed, thinking through how to describe the situation to the other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You remember my ability, right? I see colours and faces?” Apollo nodded. “Well, apparently, those are actually people.” Apollo furrowed his brows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emile groaned, frustrated. Not at Apollo, more at himself and his ability. “It’s like… we each have a tracker on us that only the others can see.” although his brows were still knitted, Apollo nodded. “That’s how Remy and Virgil found me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So they have the same ability?” Apollo asked; Emile nodded anxiously. “Well… where are we going from here?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emile frowned, turning to look through the doorway at the two. “First things first, I’m going to their apartment. They’re trying to find all eight of us.” Apollo cringed at that, following his roommates gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Emile… you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>too trusting; what if they’re lying?” he asked. “I don’t mean to mistrust your judgement, you get people way more than I ever will; but you can find a lot about someone’s ability online.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emile glared at the floor, letting out a breath. “You… make a good point, Lo.” he muttered. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apollo shrugged. “No need to apologise; and I’m not saying that these two </span>
  <em>
    <span>aren’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>who they say they are. I’m just saying that you should double check before you follow them anywhere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” Emile agreed. “But how?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apollo looked out the window, thinking for a moment. “Well, you said your power works like a tracker, so track them.” he suggested. “If they’re right in front of you, then they’re who they say they are. If not, they’re lying and shall be removed.” Emile grinned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That works… okay, here goes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and focusing. He had no idea </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>to track them, it usually just </span>
  <em>
    <span>happened</span>
  </em>
  <span> but he’d try. He willed the colours to appear like they normally did, and, sure enough, there they were. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marbled swirls of purple and brown flowed on from the living room. Emile looked over excitedly at Apollo, before remembering that he had no idea the sight he was missing. The colours stayed, even once Emile stopped forcing them to be, curling protectively behind him. “They’re there.” he told Apollo, who grinned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t do anything stupid.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>XV</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman, after handing Patton the ice pack, stood in the corner. Suspicious and worry swirled in his gut, making him want to puke. Daesko left without so much as a ‘hello’ just dropped off his cargo and left.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman wished he could do the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patton sat down on the armchair as their two guests took seats on the sofa. The woman spoke first. “Thanks for having us.” she said. Roman bit back a retort, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘we didn’t, you crashed into our door’</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.” Patton grinned widely. Roman could tell it was faked, but he didn’t know if their unwanted guests could. “I’m Patton, that’s Roman; what are your names?” he interrogated genially.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m Logan, this is my mother Jessamine.” the boy replied. Patton nodded. “We believe that our abilities may be connected.” he said. Roman stopped, perking up to listen further. “My ability is called Colour Theory, it is a connection based.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he spoke, a deep blue mist began to swirl around him. Roman looked over to see if Patton saw it too. The father figure was looking absolutely entranced, so that seemed like a yes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before either of them could say anything else, the door opened with a crash. “We have returned, and we have…” Remy burst in, followed by Virgil and an unfamiliar boy. “Pink.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Green Skies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>okay, uhhh, trigger warnings; kinda-sexual comments (something like that?), cursing, familial abandonment (technically referenced, but VERY there). please tell me if I missed anything.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The seven just… stared, for a good moment, at one another. Jessamine and Logan looked at each other first, then at the sudden intruders. The taller two at least looked embarrassed, but the shortest looked downright horrified.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patton was wide eyed, mainly gazing at the one who had spoken. However, it was the one in the corner, Roman, who moved first. He attacked the front two, ignoring Pink in the back, in a nervous hug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate you.” he mumbled, not caring if the others heard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We know.” they chorused in response, wriggling to get away. Finally Roman freed them, just in time for Patton to stand up and give them an honestly terrifying death glare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remy Somnus, Virgil Brooks.” he looked at them in turn as he said their names flatly. “You. are. Grounded.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first one, Remy, gave him an easy smirk. “Babes, I’m an adult, you can’t ground me.” he insisted. Virgil looked up at him like he was completely insane. “You get Virgie, that’s it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil smacked him on the arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan cleared his throat to remind them that there were other people in the room. “As… comical as I’m sure you are, could you resolve these familial matters at a later date.” he asked, but it wasn’t a question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“English, specs; we don’t speak honor roll.” Roman replied, earning a snort of laughter from Virgil, and a disapproving look from Patton. Logan merely rolled his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil took a seat in the corner, Remy taking the spot next to him. Patton and Roman seemed to be following Indigo’s instructions and left the two to be dealt with later. Remy, to his credit, certainly didn’t seem at all afraid. “Hey, worrywart.” he whispered, nudging Virgil in the side. “This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>what Ro did to Patton when he got me, and he’s still throwing his weight around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil glared at him, but internally sighed in relief. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please don’t let Remy be lying</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He begged. Acidic guilt still swirled in his gut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patton bit his lip, looking between Emile and Indigo, cogs turning in his head. “Alright, um; Hello, Pink. I’m Patton, that’s Roman, and that’s Logan.” he pointed to each of them in turn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, uh, I’m Emile.” he replied, wringing his hands in his lap. A tense, awkward silence passed over the group, each one’s anxiety spiking together into one horrible virus floating around them like a dense fog.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, the woman stood. “I believe that there are things that need to be sorted out.” she noted plainly. “Darin, you will be able to get a train back home without me, correct?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” Patton cut in slowly, not waiting for Logan to respond. “You two could… stay here? We are trying to stick together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emile grinned slightly. “I think I’d like that.” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All eyes turned to Logan, who was staring at his mother nervously. “It’s up to you, Hachimitsu.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>XVI</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Roman knew that he should be asleep, but here he is. His bedroom door opened slowly, dragging his attention away from the empty notebook paper. Standing in the doorway, looking no bigger than a china doll against the huge ceiling, was Remus.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?” Roman asked, not wanting to get an answer.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Remus, to his credit, didn’t reply right away. Instead, he took a seat on the edge of his brother’s bed. Tears pricked in his eyes, glistening like the stars outside the many windows. He sniffled slightly.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What do you think a unicorn’s dick looks like?” he asked.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Roman stopped, fixing him with an annoyed glare, pushing down an ocean of concerned confusion. “What the shit, Remus.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His brother shrugged. “I mean, is it like their horns?” he asked. “Like, could they draw blood if they were super hard or something?” Roman just rolled his eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll stick you with the hardest unicorn dick I can find if you don’t leave me alone.” he threatened. Remus let out a wet chuckle.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’d like that.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What the fuck? Gross!” Roman exclaimed, smacking the other with his notebook. A tear rolled down Remus’s cheek that both brothers ignored vehemently.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They sat in silence for a moment, before Remus spoke again. “Do you think they mate for life?” he asked.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Unicorns?” Roman asked suspiciously.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah.” Remus agreed wistfully. “Do you think they just find one sharp-ass dick and stick to it?” Roman shrugged. “I do.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Remus didn’t answer. “Horses don’t, snakes don’t, humans do a shit job of it.” he informed instead.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What the fuck do snakes have to do with anything?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you think they give a shit about their family?” he asked. “Do you think-” he broke off with a sob. “Do you think that they miss their kids when they leave?” he asked. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“What if one has a broken horn? Does their family care?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Remus.” Roman asked, starting to get a little scared. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Remus finally looked right at him. His eyes looked broken and his heart shattered. <strike>“Are you okay?”</strike> “please leave.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span><strike>“No. god, no. not even a little”</strike> “I’m sorry; okay.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman shot awake, confused at first of where he was. This room was far too small, far too homey to be his room. He took a deep breath, reminding himself of exactly where he was. It was his room, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>new </span>
  </em>
  <span>room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he ever realised it, he was standing in the doorway to the living room. Remy and Virgil looked up at him from the sofa. He spoke without telling his lips to form the words. “Feel like angering Patton further?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I TOTALLY updated this on time even though it's short and I don't really like it but I need it for wrap/set up, what are you talking about.<br/>in all seriousness, we're finally wrapping up Emile and Logan's bit, and getting into Remus and Janus. Not gonna lie, Creativitwins angst coming up.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Janus Serpens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I promised Creativitwins angst, and here I am to deliver it.<br/>Trigger Warnings (there's a lot). innuendos, mugging, referenced theft, cursing, knives, stabbing, blood, graphic imagery (I think), death, police, explosions. I think that's it! If I missed any, do tell me.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“We’re dead. We’re so dead. Patton’s gonna kill us, Daesko’s gonna help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remy groaned, facepalming. “Ro, babes, buddy, shut. The. Fuck. Up.” he insisted, clapping between each word. “This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>idea; and we need to find everyone.” he reminded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman nodded, but curled further into himself and his uncomfortable chair. The Three sat around in a train station. The green mist they’d summoned was light, spreading far off towards the western edge of the island. “Won’t Pat be happy that we’re all together?” Virgil suggested.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly!” Remy exclaimed. “The Dad And The Frog will be fine, Roro.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Roman could argue, the desk worker called out that the next train had pulled into the station.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>XVII</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A hand pressed Remus’s shoulder roughly into the outer wall of the building behind him. “Hmm, kinky.” he muttered. His attacker looked disgusted, wrinkling his nose and grimacing. “Sorry, fuckhead, you’re too much of a top for me. I’m gonna have to pass on that inch of a dick you </span>
  <em>
    <span>defo </span>
  </em>
  <span>got there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s my goddamn wallet, Kingsley, I won’t ask again.” the guy snarled, choosing to ignore the crude comments coming from the shorter. Remus just shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably up someone’s ass by now.” he replied nonchalantly. “Ohh, you got some sick shit on there or some’in?” Remus asked. “Well, I guess probably by now; but before, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know what you meant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus shrugged again. “Sorry to assume, dude. I just… had to guess that your brain couldn’t be much bigger than you dick.” there was nothing apologetic about his tone. His attacker pressed him harder into the wall, pulling out a small pocket knife. “Ohh, this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>kind of interaction.” Remus whispered, breath hitching in sudden terror.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kingsly</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine, fine!” Remus exclaimed. He floundered for a moment, looking around behind the guy as he searched his mind for an excuse. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’d like to get out of here </span>
  </em>
  <span>without </span>
  <em>
    <span>a stab wound thank you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He thought to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before the thought had finished ringing through his head, the world exploded in colour. Red, purple, brown. It was just a moment before he noticed the familiar tousled hair and bright eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Roman.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kingsley what is so damn interesting, where’s my fucking cash!?” his attacker wasn’t a priority, there was Roman. Roman was there; right fucking there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Staring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman was staring. Remus’s brain worked a million miles an hour at a snail's pace, inching along at breaknecks speeds; dizzying, headaching speeds. Even so, it barely took him a moment to notice the pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stabbing, pulsing, bleeding pain. It hurt, so, so very much. It stung more than a million bees, oozed more than old sewage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mind came back, snapping into time like a rubber band as he was dropped to the floor. Without telling it to, his hand curled up over his chest in some futile attempt to stop the blood loss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thisn’t some big ol 'way t’go” he slurred, as he felt hands curl around his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>XVIII</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Too slow, too </span>
  </em>
  <span>slow</span>
  <em>
    <span>, too </span>
  </em>
  <span>fucking</span>
  <em>
    <span> slow. Faster, can you go any fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>faster</span>
  <em>
    <span>?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Janus begged his legs, pumping forwards. His side felt like it was splitting, ribs going towards the sky like helium balloons, hips sagging pathetically to the floor. Tears pricked like thorns at his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Damnit Remus</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time he finally reached the slumped form of his friend, three other people were already surrounding him. “Out. my. Way.” he snarled, pulling off his cloak and pressing it to Remus’s chest, where a deep laceration sat. the three fell back, panicked, instantly. “Fucking hell.” Janus muttered as his cloaked darkened almost instantly with blood. “Someone call 000, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” he ordered. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see one of them pull his phone out of the pocket of his denim jacket. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>XIX</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Usually, when blues and reds crowded Virgil vision, it was comforting. Like a warm, familiar hug from an old friend. Especially so once he learned that he was thinking about Roman and Logan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They weren’t like that now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ambulance and police cars came quickly after Remy had called them, but whoever had stabbed Gr- Remus was already long gone. The unfamiliar figure, who Virgil was assuming was Yellow, refused to move away from Remus.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The youngest out of all of them curled in on himself, waiting for this all to be over. He just… wanted to find Remus, not this. Roman, beside him, was stock still, eyes glazed. Hushed whispers seemed to fill the air. The doctors to one another and Yellow, the detectives, Remy’s desperate attempts to get their attention. It was so quiet, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>loud</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Virgil hated it. God, he just wanted to know what the hell was going on anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dead; I’m sorry, Mr. Serpens.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nevermind, Virgil preferred not knowing. They had to be talking about Remus, there was no one else. Quickly, he looked over at Roman. Tears rolled down the taller boy’s cheeks, but his eyes just looked defeated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir? Sir, can I talk to you?” a detective asked, looking directly at Virgil. The boy blinked quickly, waking himself up from his trance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh- oh, sure, yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The detective took a quiet seat on her knees, not making the other stand up. “What is your name?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Virgil Brooks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And how old are you, Virgil?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a moment, a hitch in his breath, a falter in his mind, “I’m seventeen.” he answered, voice barely above a whisper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are your parents or legal guardian, then?” the detective asked carefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil stopped, eyes matching in a defeated sheet as his silent friend beside him. “They live on Cherry, I haven’t seen them in days.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next three months were silently agonizing. Virgil was shot everything except a comfortable smile. Finally, though, he could escape </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span> without putting the others in danger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The walk, the train, the station; everything was just the same as last time, except not a moment of colour presented itself. It scared him, how eerily similar and terrifyingly different it was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even the apartment building was the same. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What if they don’t even live here anymore? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He thought, but quickly banished the fear. He’d figure </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>out, he was sure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure, this was his only lead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The carpet was the same, the hallways were the same, the tired desk worker was the same; the apartment door, so familiarly plain, was the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His knock was so very different, so very hopeful, so very terrified.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took a moment, but the door opened up, revealing the comfortable face of Remy. “Virge?” he asked, almost without believing it. Instantly, he pulled Virgil into a bone-crushing hug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Virgil?” asked Patton from the back. Footsteps, rustles, filled the air; before long, all seven of them were embracing, still in the doorway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Misty colours rose from each of them, curling together in a beautiful, colourful array of hues. A dance of lights, if you will. They swirled, marbled, into a tornado of smoke, before condensing into a bright ball of light. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Boom. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>is an "I'm sorry" enough for this one?<br/>The next and final chapter is gonna be short, so I think I'll post it sometime this week, instead of waiting the whole two.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t believe Arthur has closed his mouth today. It’s… concerning, to say the least. Not to say that he isn’t usually quite talkative, but this is extreme even for him. It was almost as if every idea that came to his mind was spoken.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s been a week now, since Arthur has ceased any and all silence. He seems distressed by it, but it’s hard to tell. Patton is certainly concerned to say the least; he keeps looked at Arthur’s eyes, as if that could explain anything at all.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m under the impression that Thomas snapped today. Virgil returned to my room instead of my own. He told me Thomas yelled at Arthur, I don’t think either of them have gotten any sleep for a good while. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s still unclear what exactly is wrong with The King, but it seems that he has too many ideas. It’s no secret that he encompasses more than the rest of us, so there may be a possibility that he is more than an entire side.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Arthur hasn’t come downstairs today; nor has he responded to a single summons, by any of us.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thomas tried to call him down to apologise, but he still hasn’t left his room.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It seems that Virgil is being overworked at the moment; what could Arthur possibly have done? I’m certain that this is his doing. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thomas had a complete creative block today. He has not reported a single idea, and he groans and complains at the mere premise of beginning work on his new project. Without any ideas, his channel will be barren. Does he not realise he needs to begin in order to make a living? I refuse to believe Arthur would use so little intellect as to duck out, not after what happened with Virgil (More than that, it was him in the end to finally push Virgil to return, was it not?). Something else must have happened to him. Could it possibly be related to Deceit? Wrath? Neither of those make any sense. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s been fifteen hours, ten minutes, and thirteen seconds (at the time of writing this) since Thomas has had any input from Arthur. It is seeming more and more likely that he has ducked out. I believe that Virgil has been pounding on his door for a significant amount of time, although I can’t pinpoint exactly when he began.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil is, at present, leaning against Arthur’s door. All of his spider-like traits are showing, and his Tempest Tongue is practically untranslatable. He has stopped trying to communicate with me, and Patton is hiding in the kitchen.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Deceit and Wrath were absolutely no help whatsoever in aiding Virgil (or even Patton or Arthur, but that is no surprise). </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I believe that Virgil is now attempting to sing. It’s hard to tell, given his distortions are still very prevalent.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil’s voice has become easier to understand. After searching through Google, it appears that he is singing </span>
  </em>
  <span>Give Me Something To Sing About</span>
  <em>
    <span> from a show titled </span>
  </em>
  <span>Buffy The Vampire Slayer</span>
  <em>
    <span>, by Joss Wheden.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This is especially odd given the fact that Thomas (and I’m pretty certain Virgil and Arthur) hasn’t seen that show, or actively heard the song more than once or twice (certainly not enough to have the lyrics memorised the way Virgil appears to).</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>Maybe this isn’t our first life?</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Arthur has finally begun singing back. His voice sounds odd, though. It is difficult to describe, but let me attempt. It feels split, as if two people are talking in sync. Yes, two different voices, they are becoming less and less similar as time continues.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This was hours ago now, I apologise for the wait. Allow me to transcribe what has happened since I last wrote. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally, Arthur opened up his door. Except, it wasn’t him behind it. Instead, there were two new sides. They introduced themselves as Roman and Remus Kingsley, not Sanders. They asked where they were, and where Emile and Remy were. None of the rest of us recognise either of these names.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They believe that they are from an island called Accasta, and do not recognise any places such as Florida, or even America (let alone other countries). However, they speak perfect English except for a few odd words here and there that they don’t recognise. They refuse to say much about who they are, but seem very curious about who we are, and what our abilities are?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil has suggested that this is either Deciets doing (a theory I find rather unlikely), or that they are figments and Arthur is in the imagination (less impossible, but still quite unbelievable). </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe they are from a past life. Virgil has told me stories about children knowing things that they have no reason to know, and the main theory being that the knowledge came from past lives. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How much happening to The King did we miss?</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This has been my theory of what would have happened to King if he never split as a child, thank you for coming to my Creativitwins appreciation post.<br/>(Basically, since Remus died in his original life, The King wasn't able to split as early as he did canonically, and survived into adulthood, where this shitshow went down).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>